


don't get jealous (it's just puppy love)

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealous Derek, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He didn’t care what anyone said, he wasn’t jealous of the freaking dog. He wasn’t. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or when Derek gets extremely jealous when Stiles gets a new puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't get jealous (it's just puppy love)

He didn’t care what anyone said, he wasn’t jealous of the freaking dog. He wasn’t.

So what if the stupid little thing had completely monopolized all of Stiles’ time and attention for the past week and a half? So what if Stiles had canceled two dates, three movie nights, and a pack meeting in favor of coddling the little bastard?

He wasn’t jealous. No matter what Erica said. It wasn’t jealousy, it was just annoyance. Plain, simple annoyance.

The puppy never shut up, always yapping and carrying on at the slightest provocation, like the whir of the microwave or the sound of leaves skittering across the ground, his high-pitched barking always giving Derek a splitting headache. He was always in the way, plopping down in the most inconvenient of places to bask in the sun filtering in from the wall of windows, weaving through Derek’s and almost purposefully tripping him. 

And he pissed on everything. The floor, the couch, pillows, laundry, even on his own chew toys for God’s sake. Derek didn’t think the stench of dog piss would ever leave the loft.

But all that Derek could tolerate, begrudgingly so but tolerate nevertheless, if only it wasn’t for the fact that the puppy was out to completely sabotage Derek’s relationship with Stiles.

The puppy played Stiles like a fiddle, whining and whimpering to get his way, whether it would be getting yet another treat or a few minutes more of a belly rub or simply diverting attention away from Derek, crying for Stiles whenever he paid any attention whatsoever to Derek. 

Once the puppy had started gnawing on a pair of Derek’s leather boots, the pair he’d worn on his first date with Stiles, and Derek had done the only thing he could think of to deter the destructive behavior and flashed his red eyes at the unruly puppy who’d fled from the room whinging. 

Right to Stiles. 

Stiles had scooped the cowering puppy up into his arms, cooing and shushing its pitiful little whimpers as he carried it back into the living room, and made Derek apologize. To the puppy. 

The whole debacle had started when someone had anonymously brought in a litter of eight week old Golden Retriever puppies to the vet clinic and left them on the doorstep like some firehouse safe haven baby. With the clinic unable to house all of the abandoned puppies Deaton had contacted the pack to see if any of them were available to and interested in being temporary foster caretakers for one or two of the puppies. 

Stiles had enthusiastically volunteered―after getting his dad’s permission of course, calling him at the vet clinic and practically begging―and picked out the runt of the litter whose big brown eyes resembled his own. He’d promptly named him Sam and, like any other first time parent, had gone photo crazy, snapping several hundred pictures of the puppy within the span of five minutes as Scott drove him to the nearest pet store to pick up some basic necessities and much needed supplies.

Since then he’d devoted every waking moment to the young puppy, rearranging his entire schedule to accommodate walks (two a day) and feeding times (three times a day with a small Milkbone before bed), training sessions (he’d already taught him to sit, lie down, and roll over but was still having trouble with teaching him to stay) and grooming (brushing him for fifteen minutes every day), and of course the almost daily visits to the loft, the only part of his schedule besides classes he hadn’t altered.

And as much as Derek loved his boyfriend sometimes he wished he would leave the puppy at home. And by sometimes he meant every time Stiles brought the damn thing over. Which was every time.

Yes, the puppy was objectively cute, Derek could admit that but he sure as hell wasn’t adorable when Derek couldn’t even kiss his boyfriend in greeting without the little hellhound barking up a storm and completely ruining the moment.

Like on Sunday evening. After a late dinner with Stiles, Chinese takeout from Stiles’ favorite place, they had laid down in bed together, kissing lazily as their hands roamed over each other’s warm skin under one another’s shirts. Derek had just been about to nip Stiles’ neck in the spot that always drove him crazy, always made him moan and beg Derek to fuck him, when he’d heard a loud thump and jerked his head back. 

It was Sam trying to climb up onto the bed, too short to make the jump from the floor up to the foot of the bed, paws scrambling against the comforter before he fell to the floor with a thud, shaking off before trying again. Instantly Stiles forgot all about Derek and his straining hard on, sitting up with an amused  _ awww _ to lift the eager puppy up onto the bed as Derek rolled his eyes and collapsed back against the pillows, sighing heavily. 

Stiles had asked if he could stay the night, Derek unable to deny either of them the comfort of falling asleep in each other’s arms even if Stiles cuddled the puppy more than he did his boyfriend. Derek woke up early Monday morning with Sam’s ass in his face, the puppy curled up in a tight ball on his pillow, lying between him and Stiles.

He tried to move the snoring puppy over a few inches only to be rewarded with a yawn of puppy breath in his face for his efforts. He’d groaned and rolled out of bed, padding to the bathroom to take a cold shower, the puppy having successfully evicted him from his own bed, reminding himself he only had to wait a few more days and the pup would be back at Deaton’s. 

And Derek could admit there were a few times when he didn’t entirely find the puppy totally annoying, when he more than tolerated him.

Like when Sam had happily greeted him at the door when he’d returned from his morning run, his favorite squeaky toy in his mouth, a plush squirrel toy, tail wagging in excitement. Derek had spent the next twenty minutes sitting on the floor throwing the toy across the loft for Sam to fetch until Stiles came downstairs looking for the puppy, teasing Derek about him just being a big puppy and telling him to take a shower when he saw Derek’s sweat soaked tank top. 

Or the time he’d been sprawled out on the new couch, having had to replace the one Sam had ruined, watching a basketball game when Sam had yipped at him until he lifted the puppy onto the couch beside him. They’d both fallen asleep halfway through the game, Sam tucked into the crook of his arm on his back, chubby puppy belly on full display. 

Derek had been woken half an hour later by the sound of the shutter on Stiles’ phone as he snapped several pictures, muffling his laughter with a hand over his mouth. When Derek glared at him blankly, Stiles threw his head back and barked out a loud, raucous laugh, wiping at his eyes as he settled down beside Derek on the couch, kissing his cheek before switching to the front facing camera and taking a selfie with ‘his two favorite puppies’.

Or when he’d found the puppy cowering under the bed during a thunderstorm, shaking like a leaf and crying out at every crack of thunder. With Stiles in the shower and Derek sympathizing with the puppy’s struggle of sensory overload a storm brought with it, he had scooped Sam out from his hiding place and cradled him against his chest, letting out a subvocal rumble to calm him down. 

Even the time he’d stumbled on Sam pacing at the front door in the middle of the night when he’d been on his way to get a drink of water, the puppy whining miserably and visibly trying to refrain from emptying his bladder all over the floor, a gesture Derek had greatly appreciated. He’d grabbed Sam’s leash and taken him outside, the pup doing surprisingly well navigating the flights of stairs considering his full bladder, where Sam’s need to relieve himself seemed to completely vanish as he sat on the grassy curb and looked up at Derek with wide doe eyes.

Derek had rolled his eyes and contemplated just taking Sam back upstairs but, not wanting to have to clean up more dog pee in his loft, instead he’d just crossed his arms and turned his back to the puppy, tapping his foot until he heard the telltale splash of puppy piddle against the nearest telephone pole. Of course, the puppy couldn’t go with someone watching.

So, yes, he didn’t  _ hate _ the poor puppy, he wasn’t a complete heartless bastard, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved when Deaton called and let them know there was enough room at the clinic for Sam. 

That is until Stiles showed up at the loft later that day in tears. 

Derek had vaulted over the couch the second he heard Stiles’ sniffle from the doorway, running across the loft to catch him in his arms as he fell, knees giving up as he collapsed against Derek’s chest, sobbing. Derek had lowered them both to the floor, not wanting to risk a fall, rubbing Stiles’ back and rocking him gently, cradling the back of his head as he buried his teary face in Derek’s shirt.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Derek had asked, cringing when he realized he already knew the answer.

“Sam!” Stiles had sobbed loudly, stretching the word into two long syllables as he dug his fingers into Derek’s biceps, holding on for dear life.

Derek had winced, feeling like a complete jackass. He’d known this was going to happen, known Stiles was going to get too attached to give up his beloved four legged friend, known he should’ve better prepared for the fallout, should’ve done  _ something. _

“Shh, it’s okay,” Derek had assured, brushing his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he cried, Derek’s chest muffling his sobs.

“I miss him!” Stiles had exclaimed in a whimper, sniffling as he fisted his hands in Derek’s shirt. Lowering his voice, he had explained, “I miss him. And rationally I know he’ll find a good home a and have a great life with a great family but what if he  _ doesn’t _ ?”

Derek had held him for hours, not knowing what to say. He’d carried him over to the downstairs bed where he spoon fed him his favorite ice cream and rubbed his back until his crying ceases and he fell into a restive sleep. 

Derek had laid in beside him for hours, chest aching at seeing Stiles so distraught, so desperate. And so in the dark of his quiet loft Derek resolved to make everything better any way he could.

Which brought him to where he was now: straightening the bright red bow on Sam’s collar, trying to make the puppy presentable for when Stiles arrived.

After Stiles had left the loft the morning after his breakdown, apologizing for overreacting and ruining Derek’s evening―an apology Derek had vehemently rejected, explaining Stiles need never apologize to him for anything―Derek had rushed to the vet clinic to make things right. 

Deaton had let him with the most annoyed expression Derek had ever seen him wear after Derek had pounded on the door for ten minutes, all the while contemplating just breaking the door down. Derek had been overjoyed when Deaton had told him Sam was still there, already pulling out the proper paperwork necessary for Derek to officially adopt him, nodding to the back room Derek quickly disappeared into, calling Sam’s name.

Sam had greeted him with an excited squeak of a bark and an enthusiastic tail wag as Derek scooped him up out of his kennel, scratching behind the pup’s ear. Derek had buried his face in Sam’s light downy fur, breathing in the scent of puppy and Stiles, smiling against the top of the puppy’s head.

He’d quickly filled out all the paperwork and paid the adoption fee, making several appointments for vaccinations and neutering, gratefully accepting the bag of puppy chow and puppy pads Deaton generously gave him. Still thanking the vet, Derek had left the clinic and returned to the loft, Sam curled up in the passenger basking in the glorious discovery of heated leather seats.

After digging a big red bow out of the hall closet, one of the ones he’d been saving for one of Stiles’ Christmas gifts, Derek had texted Stiles, inviting him over, and started getting Sam ready. He’d fastened the bow to back of the puppy’s collar, smiling at his handiwork when Sam sneezed and shook his head without the bow flying across the room. 

“Alright, Sam. Showtime,” Derek announced with a clap when he heard the distant sound of Stiles’ footsteps on the stairs as he neared the loft. When Stiles knocked on the steel door and called Derek’s name, the alpha lowered his voice and turned back to Sam, raising a hand as he instructed, “Stay.”

Hoping Sam would listen and sit still for once, Derek strode across the loft to let Stiles in, yanking the steel door open and greeting his boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek. Reciprocating the gesture with a kiss to Derek’s chin, Stiles stepped over the threshold into the loft, impatiently asking, “So where’s this big surprise?”

“Right over here,” Derek smirked, stepping behind Stiles and resting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and turning him towards the beds where Sam was obediently waiting.

“Oh my god, Sam?!” Stiles cried in disbelief, looking over his shoulder at Derek incredulously. Derek nodded with a smile, tossing his chin towards the bed. 

Stiles bolted across the room to the bed, sweeping up Sam and showering him in exuberant kisses. Derek followed him, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning over to scratch Sam’s head. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispered, voice breaking as tears sprung to his eyes, gently cradling Sam to his chest and stroking his hand over his head. He turned to Derek, bottom lip wobbling, eyes full of tears. “Derek, really?”

“Mmm hmm,” Derek confirmed, tightening his arm around Stiles. “I’ve got the adoption papers and everything.”

“But-But what if my dad won’t let me keep him at home?” Stiles inquired, voice taking on a panicked edge as he glanced worriedly down at Sam.

“Then he can stay here,” Derek answered easily, squeezing Stiles’ hip.

“But, Derek, you don’t even like him,” Stiles pointed out, sniffling.

Derek winced. Of course Stiles had picked up on Derek annoyance―not jealousy―with Sam, his displeasure with being ignored in favor of the puppy, perceptive as ever.

“He’s an acquired taste,” Derek claimed with a one shouldered shrug. “And besides, I love you. And I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles whispered, wrapping his arm around Derek’s neck, tugging him into a loose hug, Sam barking happily between them. “I love you too.”

Derek smiled as he returned the hug, careful not to disturb Sam. He meant every word. He loved Stiles and no matter what he’d do everything in his power to make him happy, make him smile the way he did when he was completely content, make him feel loved.

Besides, it’d be might be nice to have a running partner, nice to have someone greet him when he came home every night and Stiles’ wasn’t there, nice to have another ball of happy energy running around the loft.

And if in a few years Sam helped Derek propose to Stiles with another bow and a little black box, then that would just go to show every dog has his day.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)


End file.
